


our first mistake

by starkswinterfelling



Series: the heirs [1]
Category: Historical RPF, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3862495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkswinterfelling/pseuds/starkswinterfelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s not sure what made her do it.</p><p>He’s just quiet, and comforting, and handsome, and there, and before she can stop herself she’s moving forward and potentially making a bigger mistake than she has the power to fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our first mistake

**Author's Note:**

> because i am weak for these two and this story was begging to be told. plus there can never be enough fan fiction imo

She’s not sure what made her do it.

He’s just quiet, and comforting, and handsome, and there, and before she can stop herself she’s moving forward and potentially making a bigger mistake than she has the power to fix. 

To give a little context:

The evening’s event consisted of the largest and wealthiest businessmen and women, bankers, politicians and their families; the pretence of the charity fundraiser was unconvincing, and it was probably clear to anyone who gave it a second glance that this was really an chance for parading wealth, fortune and power for those who possessed it. The Yorks, as one of the most influential and well connected families in the country, were an integral part to this spectacle, and as such Elizabeth was obliged to attend.

“A united front makes all the difference to the eyes and opinion of the outsider,” her mother had often reminded her, and Elizabeth had never heeded this warning so keenly as she had earlier that week; both she and the rest of her family were put under scrutiny over some discreditable rumours that had begun to circulate about the state of the Yorks’ business empire and more importantly, her father’s role within it. It troubled her deeply, as it always had when the great bright spotlight of media attention found itself shining closer to her; it was inescapable, and a part of her life that she’d long come to expect, but still it made her uncomfortable when it threatened to expose issues she’d rather keep private.

The vulnerability she felt in times such as these was overwhelming. Their position was precarious. Their empire on the brink, she knew. Materialistically, she cared very little, but the devastating domino effect an exposure would have on her family scared her more than she cared to admit. Elizabeth would survive and still be able to continue and flourish but the people she cared about - they would be -

But now was not the time to think about it.

Now was the time to greet, to smile politely, to move on, to continue acting like everything is normal, one fake laugh and insincere kiss on the cheek at a time.

Both her and Cecily, who’d caught Elizabeth’s hand as soon as she’d found her earlier on in the evening and hadn’t left her side since, found themselves following their mother in the circles of women that had congregated by one of the many cocktail bars. Compliments on appearance were expected, questions about their careers prepared for. They’d been trained in this game, and they knew how to play it.

“My word, Cecily, that blue is a beautiful colour on you.”

Elizabeth watched as her sister smiled and gave her thanks, and she stood idly, twisting her champagne flute in her fingers; the conversations continue around her and she suddenly finds herself without the energy to take part in them.

“Your mother tells me you’re a dancer?” a voice interrupts her thoughts, and Elizabeth quickly lifts her gaze to find the eyes of Margaret Beaufort staring politely back.

“I…yes,” Elizabeth stutters after a moment. An unusual face to see at one of these events, but not an unexpected question; she recollects herself and smiles charmingly. “Ballet - I trained with the Royal Ballet and went on to join the company.”

Margaret nods politely but says nothing more, and Elizabeth watches her carefully. She hesitates for a moment before continuing, but asks, 

“Are you here with anyone?” 

Unsubtle, really, but Elizabeth can’t find it in her to care; Margaret doesn’t seem to judge her for it anyhow.

“Henry arrived not long after I did, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen much of him tonight,” she replied, before taking a sip of her drink. Elizabeth mimics her and the two stand in silence for a few more moments.

“And your family, they’re here tonight I presume?” Margaret asks lightly.

Elizabeth nods softly. “Yes, almost all of them.” More silence as neither of them elaborate on the unspoken confession there. “My mother and sister are just over there, in fact,” Elizabeth continues and gestures towards them.

“Such a large family you have.” Margaret smiles politely, and adds, “It must be a great comfort to have siblings like you do.”

Elizabeth’s face softens almost immediately and she begins to respond when her mother chooses that moment to intervene quite inconveniently.

“Darling,” she calls, walking over with a large smile and effectively standing between her daughter and Margaret, “I’ve been looking for you!” A bright expression and an outstretched hand as she turns to face the other woman, kissing her lightly on the cheeks. “And Margaret, my dear, it’s been too long - what brings you here tonight?”

“My son, Henry,” Margaret replies, her smile brightening somewhat, and Elizabeth watches as an emotion she can’t identify flickers across her mother’s eyes.

“He’s here?” her mother asks, and continues enthusiastically, “How wonderful! Elizabeth has told me such wonderful things about him, I’m sure she’s quite anxious to see him again tonight!”

Although she was excited to hear of the man’s presence there tonight, Elizabeth had to stop herself from looking startled at her mother’s declaration of her fondness for him; certainly, she’d found his company extremely pleasant recently, but she could definitely not recall ever wanting to speak about seeing him with her mother, let alone how she felt about him.

But still she remained silent and confused, as Margaret’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly and examined her ever the more carefully. As if this were exactly what she intended, Elizabeth felt her arm being taken up by her mother and guided away as she said “I just wanted a few moments with my daughter but I’ll be back soon, if you’ll excuse us.”

Before she could even process what was really happening, her mother was talking at her quietly but purposefully.

“Go find Henry Tudor. You could do with spending a bit more time with him in public - God I wouldn’t have caught myself dead talking about him a few years ago, but that man’s on the rise and we can’t afford not to have him on our side.”

“Mother - I don’t -“ Elizabeth stuttered eventually, colour rising in her cheeks. “I don’t understand -“

“If Margaret Beaufort’s here - Jasper Tudor too, I’ve seen him tonight - we need to start taking this more seriously.”

There was a pause. “Taking what more seriously?” Elizabeth asked quietly, but deep down she already knew the answer.

Her mother exhaled sharply. “Us. Them. Our position. We can’t afford any more weaknesses, we need to show that we’ve got support, and if that means creating connections with the Tudors, then we need to pursue it.”

“And you want…me to - to use Henry,” Elizabeth clarified quietly. 

“Make friends, keep him close, flirt, whatever you have to do.” Another pause. “We need this, Elizabeth. We need people to know he’s on our side. And if that means pushing for a temporary relationship with him -“

Something snapped in Elizabeth then, and before she could help it, she bit out, “There are so many things wrong with what you’re saying, I barely even know where to begin,” and stormed off before her mother had chance to reply.

And she kept walking. And walking. Walking until the corridors were unfamiliar, and she found herself alone in a completely deserted hallway. 

Breathing heavily, she leant herself against the wall, and started pulling at the pins holding up her carefully constructed hairstyle, focusing on the sharp tugs of pain every time a golden curl fell loose and steadfastly ignoring the sharp prick of tears forming in her eyes, and the feelings of guilt that accompanied it.

She wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when she heard the one voice she most wanted to hear, but the one she’d equally been running away from.

“…Elizabeth?”

Opening her eyes sharply, she saw Henry Tudor stood a little way away from her, distant as ever, a reserved expression, and his hands tucked neatly inside the pocket of his expensive suit; his eyes though…his eyes expressed a concern that wasn’t so readily recognisable in his demeanour.

And what must she look like for Henry Tudor to be expressing his concern? She jolted slightly from where she had been slouching, instinctively reaching for her hair and wiping at her eyes, desperately hoping her makeup wouldn’t reveal too much of the state she’d been in. 

“Henry!” she said with a forced smile, and she moved a bit closer smoothing down the skirt of her red dress. “You startled me!”

He was silent for a moment as he observed her, his eyes roaming up and down her as he took in her rather distressed appearance. “Are you ok, Elizabeth?”

Feigning surprise, she replied with an as enthusiastic “Yes, of course!” as she could muster.

“You just look…” he trailed off and as Elizabeth raised her eyebrows he began to back track slightly. “That is - you look lovely, as you always do - I just…” 

He took a step closer and looked down into her eyes for a short moment, his eyebrows furrowing, the longer he stared. 

“I just,” he continued carefully, in his ever steady voice, “you look quite upset. I - I’m very sorry if I’ve intruded on a quiet moment, but I just wanted to check you were okay.” He began to back away swiftly, saying, “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to,” but Elizabeth cut across him and effectively stopped him with a loud,

“Don’t!”

A pause.

“You can…” she sighed, and leant heavily on the wall again. “You can stay.”

Taking this as invitation Henry returned to her side, leaning next to her on the wall without a word, and the two stood in a comfortable silence.

His presence was soothing, as it always seemed to be; his calm and quiet outlook to life was worlds away from the chaos and noise of the York family, and those thoughts, those irritating and guilty thoughts that had been plaguing her mind seemed to melt away in the peacefulness that came with him standing silently by his side. He didn’t ask for anything, there was no expectations when she was around him, she could just be  _her_ and he could be  _him_  and she’d never met someone who’d made her feel so instantly at home.

And yet she found herself in a position where she’d have to abuse that inexplicable trust of their friendship. Were they friends? She didn’t know how to describe what they were - acquaintances, perhaps. But even that didn’t make her feel any better about any part of the situation. Every outcome of this she envisaged someone she cared about being disappointed or hurt, and she didn’t know how to deal with that.

A lone tear slipped down her cheek before she had chance to stop it, and she scrubbed at it furiously, “Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling every bit as pathetic as she did when she’d first seen him in the hallway; but when she looked up, he was frowning softly down at her, lifting his hand as if debating whether to reach out and comfort her.

“You have nothing so be sorry about,” Henry replied quietly, frowning slightly still, his eyebrows furrowing again in confusion. Slowly he seemed to come to a decision, and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, and squeezed it lightly.

She let out a juddery sigh and let her head droop, and she felt yet another light squeeze on her shoulder. “Sometimes it just get a bit much,” she admitted quietly, and she could hear him exhale next to her.

“Yes it does.”

“I…I appreciate you being here though.”

“…You’re welcome.”

And that’s when it happened.

She has no idea why she did it, or what came over her; she just lifted her head, and saw him tall next to her, his soulful eyes full of concern she didn’t expect, and the next thing she knew she’s on her tiptoes, grasping the back of his neck and pressing his lips to hers.

They’re softer than she expected; so often they’re pressed into that thin line, hard and inscrutable, it’s surprising to know that upon touch and exploration they’re gentle and pliant. She lets her hand wander to his hair and run her fingers through it gently as she moves into the kiss, and the slight stubble of his chin scratches lightly against her face.

Henry, against her, lets out a sharp exhale of hot breath that sears across her cheek, and as his hands drop from her shoulder to her waist, she suddenly feels him inch closer to her, and Elizabeth becomes very aware of what is happening.

She’s kissing Henry Tudor. 

The ever-richer and ever more powerful Henry Tudor. Whom her mother just asked her to use as a means of securing their own power and fortune.

Her own feelings made little difference now. It was no longer her place; whatever would or could have happened between her and this man was ruined by that one request. To pursue this now would be deceitful, regardless of how she felt towards him.

And so, the moment was over as quickly as it had begun, as Elizabeth wrenched herself away and took a few steps back, unable to look him in the eyes. With a choked, “I’m so sorry,” she fled, leaving a lost Henry Tudor in her wake.

* * *

 

A few hours later while he was laying in bed staring at the ceiling, Henry’s phone pinged with a text alert, and he paused when he saw the name  _Elizabeth York_ on the screen.

With some hesitation, he opened it.

 **From Elizabeth [17/07/14, 02:24am]:**   _I can’t apologise for enough for tonight. I was really distressed and acted inappropriately, and I’ll be devastated if this changes our relationship, because I’ve really come to value you in my life for the past few months. Thank you for trying to look after me and sorry I ruined it. xx_

Henry took a moment before replying.

 **To Elizabeth [17/07/14, 2:30am]:**   _You don’t have to apologise for anything, I understand. x_

The next reply came quickly.

 **From Elizabeth [17/07/14, 2:32am]:**   _Can we forget about the whole thing and start again? Friends? xx_

 **To Elizabeth [17/07/14, 2:33am]:**   _Yes, friends :) Consider it forgotten. Sleep well Elizabeth. x_

But Henry certainly didn’t forget.

**Author's Note:**

> grantairesbottle.tumblr.com


End file.
